


Hand On Heart

by dear_monday



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: AU: always a girl, F/F, Genderswap, Tattoos, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 09:09:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dear_monday/pseuds/dear_monday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gee doesn't think it's at all fair of Frank to just waltz in one day with brand new candy-corn-colored ink splashed all over her fucking gorgeous guitarist hands, bouncing around like an overexcited puppy on crack and insisting on showing her new art to anyone who comes within a fifty foot radius of her. Gee hates her, she hates her, she hates her. And also wants to fuck her brains out, but mostly just hates her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand On Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [synonomy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/synonomy/gifts).



> please direct all blame and/or complaints to [synonomy](http://synonomy.livejournal.com), who is responsible for this.

The Halloween tatts are the last straw. Not the last straw as in, "Okay, this needs to stop now," the last straw as in _the last motherfucking straw_. Gee doesn't think it's at all fair of Frank to just waltz in one day with brand new candy-corn-colored ink splashed all over her fucking gorgeous guitarist hands, bouncing around like an overexcited puppy on crack and insisting on showing her new art to anyone who comes within a fifty foot radius of her.  
  
Gee hates her, she hates her, she hates her. And also wants to fuck her brains out, but mostly just hates her.  
  
It doesn't help that Frank's so fucking pleased with herself, trailing off mid-sentence to stare down at her own fingers, not even trying to look casual about playing her guitar in front of the mirror, talking with her hands even more than usual.  
  
Gee is a firm believer in the idea that what someone doesn't know can't hurt them, which means she has absolutely no qualms about picturing Frank's hands on her own skin when she gets herself off that night.  
  
  


*

  
  
It turns out that the tatts aren't the last straw after all.  
  
They're playing a show a few weeks after Frank's latest dick move in the Drive Gee Insane competition. Gee is sure there's a competition going. There's got to be. There is no other reasonable explanation for how fucking _good_ Frank looks, drenched in sweat and thrashing around like a whirling dervish, beating the shit out of Pansy. And – her _hands_. Jesus fucking Christ, her hands. They're a blur over the frets, quick and dexterous and downright pornographic, and Gee thanks her fucking lucky stars for the umpteenth time that she doesn't have to worry about badly-timed boners during shows. Her panties are going to be ruined, though, which is a shame because they're one of the few pairs she owns that aren't falling to bits. They're playing in some tiny, shitty club that Gee's already forgotten the name of and the lighting is pretty awful, but it throws the tendons on the back of Frank's hands into sharp relief.  
  
If it isn't proof that the universe is actively trying to drive her insane, then Gee doesn't know what is.  
  
It takes Mikey sidling over and kicking her in the shin to snap her out of the trance she's slipped into. She tears her eyes away from the ridiculously distracting sight that is Frank ripping into the lead-in to Headfirst For Halos and rips her voice apart on that one fucking song to make up for it.  
  
There's a competition, okay, and Gee is going to punch anyone who disagrees.  
  
  


*

  
  
It's when Ray catches Gee staring during Drowning Lessons and throws her a concerned look that Gee decides that this cannot fucking carry on. The show finishes and they all stumble off the stage, Frank bouncing off the fucking walls, her hands all over the place. Gee has to say her name twice to get her attention, and she looks round her hair is a fucking mess, her eyes are huge and wet and her lip is bleeding.  
  
"Can I talk to you for a minute, Frank?" Gee asks, raising her eyebrows pointedly. Frank hands Pansy off to Ray, still breathing hard from the way she was throwing herself around the stage, and runs her fingers through her hair. Gee is totally distracted by that for a long moment, but she manages to snap herself out of it.  
  
"Sure," says Frank innocently, and Gee hauls her off to the little backroom tucked away at the end of the dingy hallway. She herds Frank through the door while Ray and Mikey make for the closet that passes for a dressing room in this place, and locks the door behind them. Frank is practically vibrating with that crazy _now-now-now_ energy she always gets out of being up on a stage and playing for people, and she hops up onto one of the packing crates and drums her heels against the side.  
  
"What's up, Gee?" she asks, dragging her short nails over the scorpion on her neck, and Gee has to close her eyes for a minute and just _breathe_.  
  
Then she opens her eyes, leans in and kisses the fuck out of Frank. Frank makes a startled noise that morphs quickly into a filthy porn moan that's _so much better_ than the ones Gee has been imagining for-- well, for months, but there's no need for Frank to find out about that. Frank kisses like she plays, hard and messy, and Gee is feeling lightheaded by the time she has to pull back for air.  
  
"Okay," says Frank. "Bro, not that I, like, _mind_ or anything, but what the fuck?"  
  
"You," says Gee, because it seems like a nice, accurate summary of her problems right now. "You're driving me up the fucking wall but I don't wanna fuck the band up, so I figure if we just fuck now and get it over with we'll be cool, okay?"  
  
And Frank's face splits into a grin that Gee wants to punch and kiss in equal measure. "That look means you're up to something, Iero," she says, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.  
  
Frank's grin gets even wider and more obnoxious. "It was the tatts, wasn't it?" she says. She waggles her fingers in front of Gee's face, and the penny drops.  
  
Gee opens her mouth but Frank beats her to the punch, grabbing Gee by the hair and pulling her in for another kiss, hooking her legs around Gee's waist.  
  
"Your fuckin' _hands_ , Frank," she says indistinctly against Frank's mouth, not really knowing why she feels like she has to defend her perving when Frank is grinding against her like that.  
  
"Oh, you noticed, huh?" Frank says. "It took you long enough, fucking _hell_. C'mon, get up here." She drops down off the crate and onto the sticky floor, and Gee takes her place rather less gracefully. Frank is already scrabbling at the waistband of Gee's jeans, cursing like a sailor as she yanks at the zipper.  
  
" _Up_ , fucker," she growls.  
  
"What do you think I am, a broomstick?" Gee retorts, sticking her tongue out at Frank, but she lifts her hips obligingly and lets Frank tug them down to her ankles. Frank shakes her head, looking at Gee with awe written all over her stupidly perfect face.  
  
"Only you," she says, "Would make a Harry Potter joke when you're about to get laid. You're so fucking lucky you're cute."  
  
Gee cracks the fuck up, ignoring the way her stomach flips. F's gaze runs down over Gee's body like molasses, slow and hot, lingering on her soft, pale thighs and the thatch of dark hair between her legs. Frank lays her hands on Gee's thighs, her fingers digging in a little, and Gee fidgets uncomfortably. It's okay for Frank, there's hardly anything of her and most of what there is is just muscle. Gee's thighs spread when her weight is on them like this, and the weak light of the bare bulb overhead just makes her look even paler than she really is.  
  
"Frank," she says, because she wants Frank, god, she does, but this is totally killing her buzz.  
  
"What?" Frank looks up, so fucking gorgeous that Gee has to bite her tongue. "Oh my god, shut the fuck up. If you start bitching about your body I will fucking gag you, so help me. And not in a sexy way."  
  
Gee shuts her mouth, but there is a tiny, treacherous part of her brain that files that image away in her spank bank because _holy shit_.  
  
Her eyes drop to Frank's hands, all that beautiful, jewel-bright ink on her skin, her fingers tanned a few shades darker than Gee's whiter-than-white thighs. Frank drags her finger up towards Gee's hip, and Gee's legs fall open of their own accord. Frank's touching her so gently, not at all like she'd been expecting, and the whisper-light contact is too much and not enough and fucking perfect. Frank's hands are small but her fingertips are guitar-callused, toughened up by countless sets of steel strings and scrapes and cuts and bruises over the years. Frank's hands are a map of who she is, battered and fearless and heart-on-sleeve.  
  
Frank presses a little harder, the calluses dragging over Gee's skin and making her shiver all over. Frank grins, sharp and feline in the dark. "Wanna know a secret?" she says, slipping her hand down between Gee's thighs.  
  
Gee nods. Words, it turns out, are really fucking difficult to wrangle when Frank Iero has one hand between your legs and the other one settled on your hip.  
  
"Teaching myself to jerk off with my left hand? _Totally_ worth it."  
  
Frank's left hand – her neck hand, the hand with the calluses that are slowly melting Gee from the inside out – is the one between Gee's legs. Gee sucks in a shocked breath. Christ on a bike, what a mental image.  
  
She opens her mouth to say so, but then Frank drags her fingertip over Gee's clit and Gee's brain pretty much just _stops_. Frank's grin widens, and she dips one finger down and slides it into Gee. Her eyes go wide, her mouth falling open a little.  
  
"Fuck," she says intelligently. "Oh my fuckin' god, you're-- is this for me? Did I really get you this wet?"  
  
Gee can feel color rising in her cheeks, but she licks her lips and nods again, firmer this time.  
  
"Shit. That's fucking hot," Frank says, adding another finger alongside the first. Gee splays her legs a little wider, letting Frank in. Frank shakes her head disbelievingly, like _she's_ the lucky one here, not Gee, and she pulls out to start rubbing circles over Gee's clit with hot, slippery fingers. Gee tips her head back, letting out a low moan. She's closer than she thought, she doesn't want this to be over too soon. Frank makes an answering noise, the response to Gee's call, and drops her hand down again to slip two fingers into Gee. This time, though, she curls them like only other girls and a rare and elusive kind of experienced dude can, hitting Gee's sweet spot immediately.  
  
"Frank," Gee says urgently, rocking her hips forward to meet Frank's hand. "I'm--"  
  
"Do it." Frank looks _hungry_ , her breath coming fast, and Gee arches, a moan rippling through her as the heat coiled in her belly releases and rockets through her. It's good, so fucking good, leaving her feeling warm and loose and blissed-out as Frank keeps rubbing her fingertips against that perfect spot. Frank doesn't pull out until Gee's whimpering and over-sensitive, then – _fuck_ , then licks her fingers clean, her eyes locked with Gee's the whole time. Gee is going to be seeing that look in her dreams for years to come, holy fucking shit.  
  
"You're gonna let me eat you out next time, right?" Frank says, her voice rough and breathless as she yanks her own skinny jeans down.  
  
"Woah," Gee says, her hand snaking out and grabbing Frank's wrist, making Frank look up at her questioningly. She needs to know if Frank is serious, she can't let herself get her hopes up if Frank isn't going to follow through. "Next time?"  
  
Frank groans. "You are an actual _moron_ ," she says, returning her attention to her stupidly tight jeans. "Fucking hell, I had to get _hand tattoos_ to get you to notice I was flirting, motherfucker, that shit is _painful_. You seriously think there's not going to be a next time? You're stuck with me now, princess. Build a bridge and get over it."  
  
Gee can feel herself grinning like a lovestruck dork as she slides down off the packing crate to return the favor.  
  
  


*

  
  
She doesn't stop smiling until she falls asleep on the van that night with Frank spooned up behind her, Frank's fingers tangled up with hers.

 


End file.
